


The Dance

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa has some very important news for Lucius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Lucius nodded, pushing open the door to Narcissa’s chambers wider, and stepped inside. “I trust I have not kept you waiting too long, my love.”

Take a step back to let him pass, Narcissa watched him for a long moment before replying. “Long enough, Lucius.” 

He did not appear to be affected by her tone, for his shoulders neither sagged nor stiffened with tension as he made his way to her bed, turning, with a little flourished flick of his robes as he did so, and sitting on the edge of her four-poster. Narcissa was not sure if this amused or infuriated her. 

One delicate brow lifted lightly while she leaned back against the door. “What have you to say for yourself, Lucius?”

A corner of his mouth twitched and, right on schedule (a mental count of one-two-three), then there was that tell-tale Malfoy smirk. “Come, come, Narcissa. Do not be cross with me.” Crossing his ankles, he gave her an appraising look and casually reached inside his robes, presumably for an inner pocket.

“I shall be cross with you if I like, Lucius Malfoy,” Narcissa sniffed, attempting to give him her most unimpressed look. “And whatever it is that you have in that pocket, I am most assuredly _not_ interested in it.”

His hand stilled just inside his robes. “Are you certain?”

_Damn him._

“Y-yes,” she said, faltering a little.

Both corners of his mouth twitched again and she quite wanted to hex him.

“ _Yes_ ,” she said again, with conviction this time. “Put that away _now_.”

“As you wish,” he said silkily, withdrawing his hand and folding both on his lap. “Now, do tell what this is all about.”

Blinking once or twice, her eyes then roamed over her husband’s expectant form. No idea. He had absolutely no idea that what she was about to say would completely change their lives forever – his more so than hers, if she had anything to do with matters.

From the very moment they had wed, Lucius had been under incredible pressure from his parents to produce an heir. His parents’ only child, the Malfoy line would end with Lucius unless he managed to impregnate Narcissa. It would be entirely unacceptable, he had made clear to Narcissa since the eve of their wedding, if they did not provide an heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. The Malfoys were one of the oldest wizarding families and it was a matter of pride and lineage to keep the esteemed bloodline flowing. 

And now...

Now they would not have to worry any longer about whether or not they were failures in the eyes of his parents, for, unbeknownst still to Lucius, Narcissa was two months pregnant.

“Perhaps,” Lucius said suddenly, his voice breaking her reverie, “I ought to Summon Dobby to bring you a martini?”

_What I would not give for one..._

A hand went automatically to her stomach and she shook her head. “No,” she murmured, “that will not be necessary.”

This must have troubled Lucius, for he rose from the bed and was standing before her in a matter of minutes. “Are you unwell?” She could feel his eyes studying her, starting with her feet and travelling up her form until they locked with hers. The amount of concern in them was nearly overwhelming and, along with the gentle way he lay the back of his hand upon her forehead, made her gasp softly in surprise.

“No?” He answered his own question, obviously mistaking her little noise for a confirmation to his inquiry. 

She really could have used that proffered martini just then, for her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. 

“No,” she confirmed hoarsely, threading her fingers with his as he took hold of her hand. 

“You should lay down,” he said in that quiet, firm voice that she knew meant business. 

Nodding mutely, she allowed him to lead her to the four-poster, closing her eyes as he released her hand and swept her up in her arms, cradling her protectively as though she were made of spun glass.

The stubble on his chin felt prickly against her forehead as he inclined his head to look down at her. She didn’t mind it, though. It was manly and she quite liked the way it felt when she would run her hands along his jaw line or when he would press his cheek to hers as they embraced in front the fireplace in his den just before he would take the Floo off to one business meeting or another. 

There was a little lurch in her stomach when he leaned over to place her in the bed, much like the feeling she would get by taking a quick dive on her broom. 

“Don’t,” she said quietly, sliding an arm about his neck.

He stilled, holding her small form over the bed. “Don’t?” he repeated questioningly.

“Don’t,” she confirmed. “Sit with me instead, Lucius.”

Obeying her wish, he resumed his earlier spot on her bed, Narcissa in his lap this time. “Your behaviour is rather queer, Narcissa,” he whispered against her ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin there. “Is this because I was unable to owl you to let you know of the change in my plans?”

A shiver ran through her from the intoxicating combination of his breath and that little lilt in his voice. Her mother had once said that Lucius would not need to cast the Imperius Charm on anyone to get them to do his bidding; he would manage to enchant people to bend to his will based on his voice alone. Narcissa was inclined to agree with her.

“Perhaps,” she managed to get out, her fingers toying with the ribbon holding his hair back in a low ponytail.

“Surely you understand,” he continued, “that sending an owl from my location would not have been...prudent.”

Oh, yes. She understood. She understood all too well. However, she could not cast aside her frustration at being kept in the dark about such things.

“Just as surely,” she returned, “as you understand that, as your wife, I must keep up appearances and protect our name at no matter what the cost may be. I cannot fully protect you, Lucius, if you do not provide me the means with which to do so effectively.”

“ _Narcissa_.” 

So he was warning her now, was he?

“ _Lucius_.”

Fingers ran along the column of her throat now, moving slowly up her skin until they reached just below her chin. They cupped around the gentle slop of the throat into the chin, applying pressure.

“You ask for things that you cannot possibly have,” he said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. Squeeze.

“I may not be able to have them,” Narcissa said evenly, wrapping her fingers now around his ponytail and giving his hair a firm yank. “But your _child_ should and _will_.”

Lucius’ frame tensed beneath hers, his fingers loosening their commanding hold on her throat. Jerking his head up, pulling against her grip, he then leaned his forehead against her temple, speaking into her ear in a deadly quiet voice. “What did you say? Do not toy with me, Narcissa.”

A spot on the wall directly across from her was all that she could see; she stared so hard at it that it was as though she were staring right through it.

Automatically she replied, “I said that your child should and will have the things I ask for that you deny me.”

A stunned sort of silence followed, in which he dropped his hand to her waist. “My child?” he asked in an awed sort of whisper.

“ _Our_ child,” she corrected.

“Then you are--”

Nodding in confirmation, she slid off of his lap and manoeuvred so that she was straddling him. 

“I am.”

“An heir,” he breathed, placing a hand almost reverently on her belly.

“This changes things, Lucius,” Narcissa said, squaring her shoulders and sitting about him proud and straight.

“Of course it does,” he said in that same low voice, his eyes locked on his hand and the place where their child rested.   
“I do not think you follow me.” Fingers curled around his shoulders and she pushed him back onto the duvets, the glossy ends of her blonde hair ghosting his face as she leaned over him. “You will do as _I_ say now, Lucius.” 

Flick-flick-flick.

The buttons of his robe were undone in a matter of moments, expensive fabric pushed to his sides to reveal a well-toned chest. Slender, aristocratic, and well-manicured fingers ran through the patch of blond hair on his chest. 

“Narcissa--”

“I am carrying your child,” she continued, speaking over him. “And I can just as easily _not_ be doing so. Is that understood?”

Silence.

The fingers twisted in the chest hair and pulled up hard.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

The reply was so soft that she had to strain to hear it.

“Louder, Lucius.”

He exhaled slowly and cleared his throat before repeating himself. “Yes, my love.”

“Good,” she said, rewarding him with a roll of her hips. It was not long before she felt his response stirring beneath her. “ _Very_ good.”

Lifting her own robes above her head, she tossed them carelessly to the floor. Dobby was most excellent with care of her wardrobe, after all. 

A hand reached up to touch her and she frowned down at him. “I did not tell you to touch me, dearest one. Remember what I just said, Lucius.”

“Yes, my love,” he said, lowering his hand to his side and gazing up at her with a glint in his eye she had not seen in some time. _Lust_.

“You are a quick learner,” she said approvingly, lowering herself to lay on top of him, her bare breasts pressing flat against his chest. “Now...wrap yourself around me, Lucius.”

“As if you must ask me such things twice,” he returned, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth as he wrapped his legs about her waist and encircled her shoulders with his arms, pulling her close.

“And now, my darling,” whispered Narcissa against his hair, “we dance.”

Sinuously she began to move against him, raising and lowering her hips, teasing him, turning him on, making him _want_ her like he never had before. Legs and arms tightened around her. His mouth sought hers but never could quite take purchase as she would turn her cheek at the last moment, intent on building things up until he could no longer take them. Her pelvis snapped against his, snapped against his hips and the cock straining for release against his trousers. Moans, grunts, heavy breathing– it all spurned her own, encouraged her. Her grinding and thrusting became accompanied by her own throaty cries and, she was pleased to see, this nearly broke Lucius. Kissing, nipping, and licking at whatever bit of her he could reach soon gave way to his pleas.

“Please--”Alternately grunting and moaning.

“Please what?” A particularly rough snap of the hips.

“Please, Narcissa. I need--”

She stilled her motions and reached a hand down between them to cup him through his trousers. “What do you need, Lucius?”

Apparently he could no longer hold back. “I need to be inside you,” he growled, holding her face in his hands and pulling her down for a fierce kiss that both took her breath away and drew a bit of blood from her lower lip when it was all said and done.

“You will be soon enough,” she promised, wiping a thin rivulet of blood from the corner of her mouth and placing the tip of her finger at his lips. Closing his eyes, he sucked her finger into his mouth and she whimpered, the sound turning into a full-fledged cry as he tongued the jointure between it and its neighbour. 

Although she really ought to chastise him for doing things he hadn’t been given permission to do, Narcissa cared not to do it as that would just waylay things further. Whether it was a surge of hormones on account of her pregnancy or a strong desire to be close to him that was causing her to nearly go mad from desire for him all of a sudden, it mattered not. What mattered was that she _did_ want him and he was there and very willing to have her.

And have her he did.

Wasting no time in divesting him of his remaining clothes and she of her pesky knickers, Narcissa forwent their usual acts of foreplay and promptly sank down onto his cock, for it was straining so with need. Her head fell back as she took him to the hilt, feeling her muscles stretch and give way to receive him. In and out, she slid him. Over and over she raised and lowered herself. His hands palmed her breasts, rolling, squeezing, and pinching the nipples as she took his cock. There was a burning, a burning in her belly and in her centre and in his eyes. Sweat rolled off of their skin in sheets as their cries rose up to the heavens and _oh faster_ – It hurt. _He_ hurt. He always did but it did not bother her. She liked it. She _needed_ it, for it reminded her that he is whole and human and hers, just as she needed his nails to dig into the soft flesh of her back as they do while she pushed down on him hard, fucking him so hard she though the bed just might break.

He cried out her name in a strangled moan and she moaned in response, clenching her thighs and her cunt around him, giving him permission to come because he asked like he should have and there it was, it was warm and pulsing and she milked the last of his orgasm out of him. Collapsing, boneless, atop him, she licked a small pool of sweat out of a slight dip at the base of his neck.

“You’re a wonderful dancer, Lucius,” she murmured against his skin before lightly biting his shoulder, branding him as hers. _Hers_. Twisting her fingers with his, she settled his hand on her stomach once more, just above where the heir was growing. “And you will learn quickly that you will dance for _me_ now. You will dance for _us_. Not just for Our Lord anymore.”

"Yes, my love," Lucius returned, stroking her hair. "Dance for you and the heir."

_Oh yes, you will. And how._


End file.
